


Eyes

by occasionalwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Guilty Isaac, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped, Kinda, M/M, Mind Control, Scott is a Good Friend, drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5676250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalwriter/pseuds/occasionalwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, little wolf. We won’t hurt him.” Isaac relaxes just a tiny bit at that but Stiles’ heart rate notches up as he sees a new syringe in the hand of the second kidnapper, “You will.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes

Isaac and Stiles had been together for four months when they were kidnapped together. As far as kidnappings went, Stiles thought it was pretty mild. They were in the same cell, about 10 by 10, with a bucket in the corner that was emptied right before they went to bed every night so they could go to the bathroom. They were each given a sandwich once a day with a bottle of water to share between them and that was that.

It was the third day when things changed. They pulled Isaac out and shot him up with a clear liquid in a syringe. When they threw him back in, four of them sat outside the cell and watched. Stiles sat anxiously in the corner, shoved away every time he got too close to Isaac.

The four finally left with a huff of frustration after three hours and Isaac finally slinked closer to Stiles. He curled up on the floor with his head in Stiles’ lap and shook for the next hour in what Stiles figured were the after effects of the drugs.

“What’s the matter?” Stiles finally asks, brushing one hand through Isaac’s hair and scratching softly at his scalp.

“Whatever they gave me,” Isaac says, stopping to take a few deep breaths and reaching up with one hand to grasp Stiles’ shin, “Made me feel like I was losing control. It was horrible. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Stiles assures immediately, “You didn’t do anything to me. You stopped yourself, you kept in control. It’s okay.”

“If they do it again…”

“Then you’ll be able to control it again. And if you can’t, it’s okay too. It’s not your fault.” Stiles says, “We’ll be okay. The pack will find us.”

“It’s been almost four days.” Isaac points out, “I feel like the sweet spot of time has passed.”

“Isaac…” Stiles says quietly, his head leaning back against the wall and his eyes closing.

“Sorry, sorry. I know. Be positive.” Isaac says, giving his shin another squeeze, “Right now might not be the best time for me to practice that though.” 

Isaac isn’t facing toward Stiles but he knows that there’s a little smirk on his face as his hand goes back to scratching through his hair, “Yeah, maybe not.”

Stiles doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes up with a jolt when he hears a very familiar growl right next to him. His eyes fly open and he sees Isaac’s back to him and facing off with two of their kidnappers. As soon as Stiles went to stand, Isaac’s hand was connecting with his chest, just holding Stiles behind him as the two in front of them smirk a little bit.

“Oh, little wolf. We won’t hurt him.” Isaac relaxes just a tiny bit but Stiles’ heart rate notches up as he sees a new syringe in the hand of the one who didn’t speak, “You will.”

Then the syringe is in Isaac’s neck, Isaac’s claws in the man’s arm but no longer trying to tear as he feels the drugs hit him. The initial feeling is a half a minute of absolute exhaustion and it has him crashing to the ground as the two slink out of their cell.

“Isaac,” Stiles says, walking towards him slowly with his hands out in front of him, “Isaac, tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Sorry.” Isaac says. 

He sounds so broken and so close to losing control that it has Stiles wanting to reach to comfort him at the same time as shy away in fear. He’s in his full beta form, eyes gold and claws out as he shoves himself into the farthest corner from where Stiles and him had been sleeping the night before.

Stiles stays perfectly still and tries to find the right words to say, “Isaac. Please. Fight through it. Please. Just think about your anchor. Think about the pack, anything except what’s happening. Please.”

Then Isaac is on his feet, standing tall and straight up like he rarely did before the bite and Stiles realizes right then just how much taller Isaac is than him. He looks like he’s fighting himself, back pressed to the bars behind him with his hands wrapping around the bars closest to his sides. Stiles can see the kidnappers sitting on chairs behind them, looking like they’re at a movie theatre with their eyes wide and excited.

“Isaac.” Stiles is whispering now, trying to get Isaac to make eye contact with him but failing miserably as Isaac studies the floor, above his hear, or almost anything else. “Look at me.”

Isaac can’t keep a growl from escaping and with it comes a surge of aggression. Everything is blurry and confusing, the world tilting back and forth as his thoughts scatter. He see’s a figure in front of him, their hands in front in the universal sign for don’t hurt me. They’re talking too, but it sounds like there’s cotton balls in his ears.

Stiles can see exactly when it is that Isaac loses control. The nervous shakes stopping and his hands letting go of the bars as he pulls himself into the middle of the cell. He rolls his shoulders and Stiles can hear both of them pop a little bit. Finally, they make eye contact and it has Stiles’ stomach rolling.

His eyes are black. No gold ring around them anymore. 

Isaac feels his body calm down, his hands aren’t shaking like they were when he’d been grabbing the bars and it feels like the syringe had been filled with liquid confidence. But his head was still in scrambles. Some part of him felt like he should scoot back to the corner, ride out the itching feeling in his muscles that are telling him to fight, tear, rip. But the other half of him is urging him forward, making his feet move before he’s even consciously aware they’re doing so.

Isaac is over top of him then, Stiles forced back onto the floor, his butt resting on his heels as he tries to stay away from being completely vulnerable. He watches as Isaac jolts back for a few seconds and then come forward again so he’s crouching threateningly in front of Stiles.

Isaac is face to face with someone. He knows he should know the person, knows that the smell and face and voice is familiar. But, with every twitch Isaac wants to tear him apart; he wants to wrap a hand around his neck and squeeze until his windpipe is crushed.

A hand starts reaching up and is resting on Stiles’ throat, he reaches up with one of his hands and wraps it around Isaac’s wrist, not trying to pull it away but wanting to at least have the feeling of control. “Please, Isaac, please.”

Isaac’s hand tightens when he feels the vibrations of the person in front of him speaking. It’s not enough to hurt him, but it’s definitely enough to make him uncomfortable. He doesn’t stop speaking though and Isaac tries to search through the now roaring in his ears to listen to him.

“Listen to me. You know me. It’s Stiles. Isaac, please. I love you. Just look at me. Focus. The pack will be here soon. They’ll help you. Don’t hurt me. This isn’t your fault. I love you.”

Isaac’s hand tightens again as a rush of adrenaline surges through him. Now he knows it’s hurting the person because they’re hand tightens around his wrist briefly. Then the hand relaxes again and at first Isaac thinks it’s because they’re in pain and can’t keep a grip anymore but as he presses down a little harder he realizes that the person is still trying to talk.

“Isaac!” Stiles is gasping for air, his hands dropping to his sides so they’re keeping him up, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his neck without making Isaac angrier.

After a little bit, Isaac let’s go though and Stiles thinks that maybe he’s back in control. But his eyes are still black and he’s standing up in a split second. Isaac flips toward where the kidnappers are sitting, then glances at the cement stairs behind them to see four more blurs of people flying down the stairs.

Scott, Derek, Erica, and Boyd are on the stairs. Stiles lets out a painful breath of relief as he tries to get his feet under him. He feels weak and unstable but manages to rest most of his weight on the wall behind him as he waits for them to fly in.

They get the jump on the kidnappers in front of the cell and Stiles watches the four of them each take a kidnapper and subdue them within seconds. Isaac is growling louder and louder though, inching back toward Stiles as they get closer to the cell door. 

Then, Derek is pushing a key into the lock and Isaac is roaring.

The four freeze and watch as Isaac yanks Stiles up in front of him; one hand is at his neck, claws poised over his jugular as his other is digging into his waist, nails imbedded into the skin and keeping him from moving in fear that Isaac might rip him apart. 

“Isaac,” Erica says, voice quiet and as soothing as she can marriage, “It’s us, it’s pack.”

That makes the claws tighten and Stiles can’t help the whimper that escapes. Scott looks torn, like he wants to rip Stiles away from Isaac but knows that it’s a horrible idea. Derek is studying the two of them like a puzzles, something he’s trying to figure out. Boyd looks as stoic as ever but it slips when he sees the pinpricks of blood on Stiles’ shirt by his waist.

“Isaac, really look at them. Please, listen to me.” Stiles’ voice is shaking, his neck aching and eyes going blurry with exhaustion, tears, and pain. He reaches one hand back just enough to grab onto the arm that’s clutching his waist while his other goes to it’s previous position of wrapping around Isaac’s wrist.

The four can clearly see Stiles mouth ‘do not move’ and the sudden pressure to not twitch has all their anxieties rocketing up a notch. They watch Stiles turn his head just barely, baring his neck more which confuses the side of Isaac that is expecting him to resist everything that he does. 

“Isaac, I trust you. Okay? I know you won’t hurt me. Just breathe; think about us. You know who we are so please, please, just relax.”

Then Boyd moves half a centimeter and the almost tranquility of the moment is thrown out the window as Isaac tightens both his hands and throws Stiles to the side too. His head cracks against the wall and his body goes slack as he slides down it. He watches as Isaac stalks toward him again. He takes three steps before Scott is leaping onto his back with Boyd helping to pull him back and as far away from Stiles as he can. Derek and Erica go to Stiles, Erica pulling his shirt up just enough that she can press at the torn claw cuts on his hip. 

Derek gets his head lifted off the floor and starts leeching pain as soon as they make contact, “How’re you doing?”

“Don’t hurt him.”

He hears the sounds of fighting cease for a second before he turns his head to watch Isaac start to lunge back at him. Scott and Boyd have a grip on either arm and are doing their best to keep him held back without hurting him.

“We should knock him out.” Boyd says, “Let him sleep off the drugs.”  
“No!” Stiles chokes out, trying to sit up but being held down by one of Erica’s hands on his chest, “Don’t hurt him!”

“Stiles…” Derek starts to say.

“No.”

“There’s rope in the car.” Derek says after a brief pause, “Erica, run up and get it and we’ll figure it out. I’ll get Stiles up there too.”

“Put him in my car.” Scott says as Derek starts to lift him up, “We’ll get Isaac into your car and you can take him to Deaton. I’ll bring Stiles to see my mom.”

Derek nods and adjusts Stiles’ weight in his arms, “You good with that?”

“Don’t hurt him.” Stiles slurs out, head flopping against Derek’s shoulder, “Please.”

“He’s going to be okay.” Derek assures him, walking up the stairs, “Just stay awake. Okay? We’ll take care of him.”

The next thing Stiles knows he’s in Scott’s bed with Scott sitting anxiously in a chair and staring at him. He jolts up and feels everything from his head to his knees throb in pain, “Son of a fucker.”

Scott smirks a little bit and scoots his chair forward the half of an inch there is left between where he’d been and the edge of the bed, “How’re you feeling?”

“Like an elephant drop kicked me.” Stiles says, “Am I okay?”

Scott looks down at his lap for a second before shrugging and telling him, “Technically, yes. You’ve basically just got bruises all over. My mom said you had a mild concussion as well and the bruises around your neck freak me out but in a week or so you should look normal.”

“Why does it sound like that’s a bad thing?” Stiles says, shuffling so he’s resting with his back against the headboard. It took all of his strength and energy to do just that much and Scott looks at him sympathetically and sets his hand on his shin, pulling some of the discomfort.

“Dude, it was Isaac.”

That seems to snap Stiles back awake again, “Is he okay? You didn’t hurt him did you? Oh my god. I want to see him.”

Scott looks confused and with every second that it takes for him to think of an answer Stiles looks like he’s about to fall apart, “He’s okay. He snapped out of it about an hour after we got him back to Derek’s. He slept for the rest of the day. Erica is keeping me updated, I’ve just been with you. Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your boyfriend tried to kill you.” Scott states blatantly.

“It wasn’t him…” Stiles says.

“But when you see him will you honestly not see him when he threw you against the wall?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles says, “I just, I know that it wasn’t him. Okay? And it obviously wasn’t him. There wasn’t any similar mannerisms between the two, he was a completely different person.”

“Okay.” Scott says, “Erica says that he’s really nervous to see you. He thinks you’re going to be pissed at him.”

Stiles just shakes his head a little bit, “Of course not.”

Fifteen minutes later Scott is opening the door for the four others, Derek leading the way with Isaac hunched in on himself following behind him and Erica and Boyd bringing up the rear. Scott gives Derek a quick nod and then gestures toward the stairs. Erica and Boyd slide past Isaac and follow his path as Isaac barely steps into the house.

“Dude, it’s okay.” Scott says, “He isn’t pissed at you.”

“He should be.” Isaac says, finally looking up at him, “I remember all of it! I remember him begging me not to hurt him! He never should forgive me.”

“It is not your fault.” Scott says, squeezing his shoulder, “And if he hears you say that he’ll punch you.”

Isaac just nods a little bit and the two of them head up the stairs and into Scott’s room where Erica and Boyd have hopped onto the bed as well, Erica sitting in the middle as Derek takes the spot that Scott vacated. When the two walk in, Stiles is staring up at Isaac and everyone goes quiet while the two freeze in place.

Then, Stiles is jumping up from the bed (and pointedly ignoring the fact that Derek had to steady him) and taking the two steps to meet the two steps that Isaac had taken and wrapping his arms around him. Isaac has one arm tight around his waist and the other is practically cradling the back of his head. 

“I’m so sorry.” Isaac mumbles, mouth right at Stiles’ ear, “So, so, so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Stiles promises, “It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Stiles assures, pulling back and glancing around the room to see the other four all clearly trying to occupy themselves and ignore the two of them but also clearly not doing a very good job.

“You could leave the room.” Stiles points out. They all nod a little bit then and make their way out of the room, Erica and Boyd both giving Stiles a pat on the back as they pass and Derek hesitating for a second at the door, “We’ll be okay.”

Once they’re all finally out of the room Isaac pulls Stiles toward the bed and the two sit quietly on the edge for a few minutes. Stiles is itching to fill the silence but he can tell that Isaac is trying to work up the courage to talk so he bites his tongue the best he can.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Isaac asks.

“I know it wasn’t you. I know it was the drugs.” Stiles says, “Whatever they were trying to turn you into, it was nothing like the real you. Okay?”

“How? How did you know that?”

“Your eyes were all black. And I know you wouldn’t hurt me!” Stiles says, arms flailing a little bit, “Isaac, you asked if you could kiss me the first time. I know you would never hurt me.” Isaac turns big puppy eyes toward him and Stiles smiles softly, “Give yourself a little credit. It’s okay. We’re okay.”


End file.
